


cobblestone and dusty feet

by phasma



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Finn in recovery, M/M, One big pile of cheese tbh, Set after events of Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phasma/pseuds/phasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>finn and poe build a cabin in the woods, and it kinda sucks balls but it’s home and they’ve got each other to keep warm. title from ‘live to tell the tale’ by passion pit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cobblestone and dusty feet

**Author's Note:**

> instructions: listen to rusted root’s ‘send me on my way’ on loop for the entirety of this fic to get the Full Experience™, have fun, and show your work for full credit.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

One month, two weeks, and six days. It’s how long Finn has been conscious since his run-in with a certain crimson lightsabre, it’s how long he’s had to regularly report to sessions of physical therapy in the Resistance medbay, and it’s how long he’s been accompanied by Poe Dameron to each of those sessions. It’s only been three weeks since the two decided to stop beating around the bush and become an item, and it has been fifteen minutes and four seconds since Poe had kissed Finn on the cheek for his efforts and improvements in basic motor skills.

 

They’re resting now. In Poe’s quarters with separate datapads, reading whatever suits their individual fancies. After a particularly grueling session of PT, it’s nice to take it easy and simple. The same can’t really be said for Poe, as he’s working on call, and at any second he can be whisked away on a mission. Since Finn is ever the optimist, and is one hundred percent sure of the Force’s existence, he silently begs it to give Poe the night off. The air they share is too comfortable to shatter. It’s critical they give it up for no one.

 

From his seat on Poe’s bed, Finn can hear the pilot’s occasional grunts in indignation at the history article he’s reading at his spot on the floor. Poe had insisted Finn take up the bed for himself to ensure maximum comfort, which would have made Finn feel infantilized, if not for the fact that his joints and muscles are killing him. His back, now starting to feel tight again, is in need of serious relief. Finn sits up and tries to twist himself. It hurts like hell, and after letting out an embarrassing whine, Finn stops himself from doing further damage. Plus, Poe’s on the bed at the first sign of distress. 

 

“What’s wrong, darling?” Finn raises an eyebrow and snorts at the kitschy pet name, so Poe shakes his head and doesn’t even wait for an answer before pressing on. “Where does it hurt?”

 

Obviously his back, but Finn answers regardless. “It doesn’t really  _ hurt _ . More like, squeezed so hard there’s no room for endorphins to…” and he’s babbling on to distract from the pinches of pain he feels when he paws at his back, as if he can just pull a screw loose and everything will feel better. It has Poe staring at him, smiling sympathetically though clearly somewhat entertained.

 

“Hey, I could help you with that,” and before Finn can ask what that’s really supposed to mean, Poe is gently sliding his palms down Finn’s back, to give him a sense of how it’ll feel. “This okay?”

 

Well, he hasn’t really  _ done  _ anything yet, so Finn’s not entirely sure he can answer, but then Poe’s hands snake their way to the junctures between his neck and shoulders, apply  _ pressure _ , and oh wow, is that very much okay. Finn says just that and Poe lets out an amused huff. He then starts to knead the muscles there a little more in earnest, slowly working his way down Finn’s back, prudently avoiding the deep wounds on his spine and right shoulder. It’s helping, it’s heaven, and Finn would never have guessed Poe to possess such a skill.

 

“Stars, Poe. I gotta say, you are one helluva masseuse.”

 

Poe snorts. “Just kinda bullshitting my way through this, honestly. I have no clue what I’m actually doing.”

 

“Huh… well, no harm no foul, right?”

 

“Right you are,” Poe replies, and in a surge of light laughter, carelessly lets his hands press a tad too hard on the ‘sabre wound at Finn’s back, causing him to wince and ball his hands into fists immediately.  

 

“Ooh, oh wait, yeah there’s harm.  _ Foulfoulfoul _ .”

 

In an instant Poe retracts his hands, eyes wide in apology and upset surprise. “Shit, buddy, I’m so so sorry.” He can hear Finn try to steady his breath, heart nearly cracking in two from the notion that he caused him any pain. Like a whisper, Poe closes his eyes and nears his face to the very spot he’d just pressed upon, applying a feather-light kiss to the skin and scar-tissue. He kisses again, a little higher this time, then a little lower, until he’s certain he’s covered the entirety of the disturbed area, resting his forehead on Finn’s upper back when he’s done.

 

Though it only seems to last a moment, the entire exchange means a lot more and Finn knows it. That millisecond of broken trust that Poe probably thinks happened might just as well not have. Finn isn’t phased. He doesn’t feel upset or betrayed, and he definitely isn’t hurting (on the inside, the physical pain takes time to subside, but it isn’t torture). Nevertheless, he feels like he has to assure Poe of this, so he reaches a hand behind himself to card through Poe’s hair. 

 

Apology accepted, and everything is mended.

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


Mess-hall meals are always raucous, with people of all rank and file congregated to eat and chat and belch, but Finn’s glad that it’s become his new norm. Definitely beats the paranoia that every bite you chew is being monitored, that’s for sure. He’s just filled his tray with the kitchen’s special for the day, and is meandering over to a table where Poe is already sitting and in light conversation with BB-8. 

 

A week had passed since the massaging incident and all throughout, the air between Finn and Poe had shifted drastically. For the better. Boundaries that were unneeded are now down, and the amenity that was there before has doubled. If one falls, the other is sure to catch him, and make sure he’s okay afterward. It’s as simple as that.

 

Because of this, Finn is able to sidle up next to Poe with ease knowing that he’s not being intrusive. He can only catch half of the conversation anyway (he wants BB-8 to warm up to him a little more before he bothers learning binary). 

 

“...Well tell Threepio that the gilt gold he has on isn’t any more in style than your paint job.” A few beeps and whirs. “Why does what’s ‘in season’ even matter when it’s the same season every day on this planet?” Certainly Finn’s sat in on a serious conversation. Looking at BB-8 in pretend understanding, he waits until Poe has shooed the droid away for being fussy before pecking the pilot on the cheek and wishing him a good afternoon.

 

Poe smiles, cheeks warming from the affectionate sentiment. “Right back at ya, buddy.”

 

They dig into their lunches and talk about the goings-on of the day, how Poe had been mentoring some newer pilots, and how Finn had an extensive comm session with Rey after helping General Organa on some intel business. The conversation with Rey, while long, had been a nice breather after having to recollect piece by piece what he knew of the First Order, and Finn (as well as everyone else in the Resistance) is always curious to know how her training is going.

 

Over the course of their meal, other friends (Poe’s friends, who’ve become Finn’s friends through association) had dropped by to eat their lunch with the two, making the conversations gradually increase in volume. Jessika had been one of the more animated talkers in the group, awestruck and enthusiastic about asking Finn how Rey was doing. To her relief, Finn had only good news to report.

 

“It’s so cool that Rey gets to train with  _ Luke Skywalker  _ himself,” she raves. “It’s  _ too _ cool.  _ She’s _ too cool. Can you believe two living legends are meeting like that? I mean, when you cause enough traction in that amount of time, you’re definitely legend material.”

 

Poe leers at his benchmate. “I guess that makes our traitor here a legend too, huh?” 

 

“Damn right, and as a legend, I demand the deepest respect from pilot boyfriends and their thankfully not-present-at-the-moment droids.” A smart aleck answer to a smart aleck inquiry; Finn had made the right move, if Poe’s chuckle is anything to go by. Said pilot boyfriend redirects his attention to Jessika again. “Does Rey even know she has a fanclub with an awfully invested president here?”

 

“You hush, Dameron,” Jess chides. She quickly goes back into dreamy-fanclub-president mode from the sound of Rey’s name, though. “She must have better things to think about on that island anyhow. What do you think the planet’s like? You know, Skywalker got his first real training for the Rebellion on Yavin 4, does the planet they’re on now have a similar landscape? You think it’s different with being a Jedi? You think the environment has something to do with it?”

 

“Well,” Poe interjects, to give Finn some time to think of how he’ll be able to answer each question, “I know for sure the environment didn’t hinder any development for me.”

 

“I’m going to pray that wasn’t meant to be a double-entendre,” Jessika says, and Poe’s eyes widen from realization of what he could’ve been implying. “Any innuendo is on you, Pava. I was  _ saying _ that it was a really good place. Nice and healthy upbringing, you know? Enough room for flight practice, with plenty of trees to guard the house. Made a lot of special memories there.” 

 

And Finn, while seemingly passive throughout this exchange, is really just observing Poe; how he gets so reverent when talking about his home, and how he doesn’t even need to mention his family for the rest of the table to know he’s thinking of them. Missing them. Thus, Finn is caught a bit off guard when Poe zeros his eyes in on his, intense and out of their nostalgic haze. 

 

“What?” Finn’s almost afraid of being answered. 

 

“You’ve never lived in a house, have you.” Of course, Poe knows the answer. Finn knows the answer. Jess knows the answer. Everyone knows the answer, which is why Poe stated rather than asked the question.

 

Finn tries to brush it off as quick as possible, because yes, it’s the truth. But it’s also the past. There’s no need to dwell on it. He raises an eyebrow. “And you’ve never lived as a Stormtrooper, yet we’re still decent people without those specific experiences.”   
  


Briefly, Poe pauses in what he’s doing, as if waiting for Finn to go on. It’s over in an instant after he accepts the response and claps Finn on the back, smiling that annoyingly bright smile and chuckling. 

 

“Touché, my pal. Touché.” He playfully pecks Finn on the cheek, his gaiety overpowering any previous awkwardness by tenfold. The action is appreciated, and Finn smiles right back while the conversation starts up again in full swing. It segues to forest survival to training days to graduations to now. Where they’re all together and enjoying a nice meal in good company.

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


Another couple of months pass by, and as Finn starts to spend more time with Poe and in his quarters, his road to recovery is swift, the state of his back and nervous system improving exponentially. Today had been no different, going on like any other day, and as Finn walks from the medbay to the dormitories, expecting a relaxing evening spent with Poe in nonchalant conversation, the very man he’s headed toward stops him in his tracks.

 

“Finn! My beautiful, beautiful buddy,” he scoops him into a hug and plants a kiss on his lips. Still being held, Finn notices how eager Poe is. Like something that’s bubbling inside him is about to overflow. Apparently, Poe demonstrates that when he continues: “I was just looking for you. There’s something I want to show you, and I really don’t think I can wait, we have to hurry before the sun sets.”

 

Finn tries to catch every word being thrown at him, but it’s hard since Poe’s speech is quickened with his brimming excitement. To simplify things, he agrees to go see whatever it is Poe wants to show him, resulting in him being led by the hand out of the building and onto one of the base’s dirt roads. Leading towards a densely forested area, the dirt road looks to be of little use, and Finn wonders just what exactly could be of such great importance that he  _ must _ see it now or never.

 

His hand is practically being tugged for dear life, Poe impatient and striding and now looking back at Finn with a manic grin. “The walk’s not too long, just past a few of those trees. Should take us about ten minutes.” Finn whines, slumps, and slows his pace, causing Poe to slow his own.

 

“Aw c’mon man, I just got back from PT. I don’t feel like walking that long-ass way.” Poe blinks like he wasn’t expecting to be shot down (he wasn’t, since Finn had already agreed to follow him just a couple of minutes ago). However, he perks right up again to make a suggestion.

 

“It’ll give you some more exercise! That’ll help with recovery, right? You’re body will thank you later!”

 

“When I’m in a position to be pushing it on physical activity, I’ll let you know.”

 

“Noted. Hmm,” he looks around, as if trying to visually show him searching his mind for a way to get Finn across that “long-ass way.” Ten minutes. Not that long. Still… anything that could possibly hinder a full recovery for Finn is something Poe does not want to come into contact with. Maybe he can carry him across the way? He’s just about to scoop Finn up in his arms to avoid protest, when his eyes catch a wheelbarrow leaning against one of the base’s many sheds. “I got an idea.”

 

_ Clearly _ , Finn thinks, if Poe’s beaming face and sudden sprinting away is anything to go by. He’s tempted to follow him. Just to humour him. But Poe’s turning around in a split second, pushing a wheelbarrow straight towards Finn, and the look he has is a little scary, if Finn were being honest. Staying still seems like his best bet.

 

“Hop in,” he commands. Like a new instinct, Finn resists at first.

 

“It’s not like I’m an invalid,” he crosses his arms. Like a fool who’s hopelessly in love, Poe smiles.

 

“I know, but you do have a tendency to complain about things that are really no big deal. This,” the cart is thrust in Finn’s direction, “is no big deal. If I were you I’d be thrilled at the thought of someone giving me a free ride.”

 

When it’s put like that, Finn can see a bright side to it. Their little game isn’t over yet, though, so he makes his comeback after he slowly climbs into the wheelbarrow. A smile from Poe, his arms tightening their grip on the handles to look stronger. Finn’s legs dangle off the front, and he remarks: “You have a tendency to critique anyone’s piloting that isn’t your own, though. I don’t know how thrilled that’d really make you.”

 

“Shut up,” Poe chuckles, and leans down from behind Finn to kiss the side of his cheek. “Besides, if it were you who was giving me that ride, I really would be thrilled in the best way, honest. And yes, I just realized how that sounds but you know I didn’t mean it like that, even though for some reason everyone on this base assumes everything I say is dirty.”

 

Such a drama queen. Finn finds it endearing, but he’s not gonna let Poe know that anytime soon. “They don’t assume that.”

 

“They have no reason to!” Without preamble, Poe starts pushing the wheelbarrow down the dusty road, grumbling for the first minute of their ten. “It’s not like I’m a commander or anything. It’s not like I have an air of maturity that I have to uphold, that I have been upholding. It’s mostly stupid Jess, always trying to make me look bad for the fun of it…” Good background noise for brisk trip.

 

They’ve just breached the more forested area, the dirt road ending and their path now made by the forest floor—an amalgamation of soil, pebbles, tree needles, and twigs—making for a bumpier ride. Finn can hear Poe’s breathing becoming more laboured, so he cranes his neck as far as is comfortable to address him. “You don’t have to do this the whole time.”

 

“Nah nah, ’s alright,” Poe pants, treading on.

 

“If you say so.” 

 

Folding his hands behind his head, Finn leans back at looks up at gross, sweaty Poe. It’s kind of hilarious how determined he is. “You’re old.”

 

“Not if I keep this up, I won’t be.”

 

A few more minutes pass of snarky remarks and wheelbarrow pushing, the scorching, setting sun motivating Poe to end the trip quickly, but soon enough he abruptly stops the cart at a small clearing in the forest. Relieved, sighing, and positive he’ll be sore, Poe doesn’t say anything that can give Finn a hint as to what they’re supposed to be stopping for. All he sees is a square patch of land that’s been dug up and flattened, about an inch below the ground. Finn has suspicions, but jumping to conclusions has never done anyone any good.

 

“Poe... what is this?”

 

✧✧✧

 

_ “He’s never had a  _ home, _ General. I really think this could help boost morale.” Poe is lucky to have caught the general at a moment of leisure, where usual strictness subsides to a caring elegance. Still, that doesn’t stop her from being cheeky. _

 

_ “And whose morale are we talking about here?” _

 

_ “Finn’s, obviously!” Being the high ranking officer that he is, Poe is able to toe the line of overstepping certain boundaries with General Organa. She’s like a second mother to him, and she’s aware of it, so forgoing decorum around each other is not an issue. “Seriously, you think I’d be doing something like this for myself?”  _

 

_ The general takes a sip from the mug she’s holding. “I think you don’t entirely lack any benefit from this.” _

 

_ Fact. This makes Poe sheepish and instantly blushing. “...Well, it’s not like I don’t get some… enjoyment out of seeing him happy. And comfortable at the very least.” Poe didn’t expect her to smile and lean in, a regal hand presented and expecting to be shook. Not entirely sure why he does it, Poe takes it, shakes it. Only then does the general provide an explanation. “I’m only doing this because of the efforts you both have shown for this cause.” _

 

_ Poe’s hand freezes and he lets go. “Wait, you’re seriously letting us do this? Stars, I can’t believe… not that I don’t think you’re generous! But, wow… where can we build it?” _

 

_ “I’ll send you the exact coordinates shortly, but keep in mind it can’t be too far off from here. I expect you two to be mindful neighbours.” _

 

_ “You don’t know how much this means to me.” _

 

_ “I think I can get an idea.” _

 

✧✧✧

 

“If you don’t want to move in, I totally understand. It’s just that, well, we sort of had that conversation in the canteen a while back and it dawned on me that, hey, maybe living in a house isn’t something that’s entirely unobtainable for you. Maybe we can try to, I dunno, give you the life you never had? If you want it! Of course—”  _ Thunk! _

 

The clash of the wheelbarrow’s side hitting the pebbled ground has Poe yelping a halt to his rant, terrified eyes drilling into Finn, who had used a combination of momentum and his own weight to topple the cart over. Currently, he lies on his side, groaning and chastising himself. “Okay. I instantly regret doing that.”

 

“You should! What were you even thinking, are you okay? Is it something I said?” Poe’s voice has risen in pitch and frequency in his panic, he really doesn’t know what just happened or why it did. Thankfully, however, it’s not too long before something clicks in him that reminds him to bend over and proffer a hand to help Finn up. With another self-scolding groan, Finn takes it and hoists himself to his feet, not letting go of Poe once he’s up. 

 

“What you said is too much.” Poe’s expression softens, but there’s an interrogative intensity to his eyes. Curious as to what Finn’s even talking about, probably. “You’re overthinking this. I had to get you to close your mouth for one second.”

 

“So you toppled the cart?”

 

“Not my best move.”

 

They both chuckle, Poe letting his eyes settle at their joined hands. “Be honest with me, how do you feel about this.”

 

Finn uses his grasp on Poe’s hand to pull him close. Makes sure he’s close enough to see every freckle in the pilot’s chocolate brown eyes when he tells him, honestly, how he feels about the prospect of building a house here and moving in with the man he loves and sharing millions of brand new experiences. How much he loves it.

 

The smile that’s pulling Poe’s face taut is hard to contain in his elated disbelief. He’s shaking and staring and about to burst; he has to say something. 

 

“We’re gonna do this?”

 

As if he needs an answer.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

  
  


Midday sun is a cruel and unrelenting mistress who leaves one blushing and itching and sweating something fierce. At least Finn had grown used to that over the course of his life, and after being on the hump of sand that is Jakku… at least he doesn’t have to be doing any strenuous manual labour like Poe or Jessika. This is on account of one, prudency for any unnecessary toll on Finn’s body, and two, the fact that Finn knows more about the structure and layout of a building.  _ Architect _ becomes another title Finn has under his belt, shining with the promise of sturdiness and homely practicality. As for Poe… well, he knows how to use tools. 

 

Jess had been the first one to volunteer for house-building escapades. Her zeal had been appreciated, and not that she isn’t a huge help with construction, but Finn can only roll his eyes so many times at the pilot claiming she’s only doing it because she has dibs on Poe’s quarters, and this will get him out faster. Speaking of Poe —

 

“Just hold it still for a second.”

 

“Gee, I would if there wasn’t the impending fear of you hitting my hand.”

 

“I won’t hit your hand, Jess.”

 

“But you  _ did _ .”

 

“You guys bicker like little kids. It’d be annoying if it weren’t funny,” Finn calls from his sought out refuge from the sun. Under a tree and far cooler than the scorching worksite where Poe and Jess are working. Or at least, trying to work while sweating, boiling, and yes, bickering.

 

“Oh yeah? And what’re you supposed to be doing?” Jess accuses, as if she’s single-handedly constructing the house herself.

 

“Keeping an eye out.”

 

“You’re gonna get an eye out if you just keep sitting there while we work our asses off all day.” Poe gives Jessika an incredulous look, which she just brushes off as she gets back to business, “It made half-sense.”

 

Ever the caring boyfriend, Poe excuses himself from Jessika’s side and sashays over to Finn, retrieving a spade from one of the many pockets of his flight-suit-turned-construction-clothes (by unzipping it and tying the sleeves at his waist). He waves it around Finn’s face for a bit, taunting him before handing it over. “You, my love, can be of great assistance by laying out bricks for a pathway in front of the house. Won’t cause too much strain, you know?”

 

“And here I thought I’d get off scot-free today.” But Finn thrusts his hand out to Poe anyway, making a show of standing up and walking towards the house. Simply done, sturdy, and coming along great… so long as Jessika cools it a bit with her complaints. Poe heads back over to her to help with basic construction, while Finn gathers up the supplies he needs, setting them in the wheelbarrow used the first time he visited the worksite. 

 

A lot has changed since then. Not just the physical properties of the lot, but also Finn’s dynamic with Poe. The more they work on building up the house, the same seems to apply to their relationship. They’re building a  _ house _ together, for Force’s sake. A house they’re meant to live in. Together. It’s like nothing Finn could’ve ever imagined, but it’s turning out to be like everything he could’ve hoped for. He digs and lays out bricks in a happy daze, tuning out certain bickering that’s starting up again from a certain couple of pilots. 

 

Finn isn’t sure if his (possibly heat induced) dream-like state is helping his work, or turning his cobblestone pathway into some crude brick mosaic. It’s the effort that counts. Soon, he figures, he’ll have a lovely walkway made, and while all this heat and complaining will fade away to the back of his mind, he’ll still have something tangible to hold onto as a memento. Or in this case, something tangible to walk upon. His own special part of the project that will take time and be worth it. He’s sure of it.

 

After countless rotations of D’Qar’s forests around a blistering sun, the house is practically livable, save for a few more touches to secure things like primitive, swinging doors and windows. Near the final stages of construction, more members of the Resistance decide to help out once they figure that Finn and Poe are actually going through with this whole house-building thing. By the time the house is near completion, and Finn’s back has healed immensely, the little working party had a fair amount of people to its name.

 

Everyone is working on minute details, and slowly, as their work is finished and there’s nothing left for them to do, people step back to watch and wait for all work on the the house to come to a close. It’s nearing evening, and Finn is chatting with some newly-made friends, when he sees Poe stride up to him, determined and melodramatic. Finn looks at him inquisitively as Poe stops in front of him and lifts his chin to say in a mock-serious voice, “Finnjamin.”

 

“Yes, Poelivia?” Two can play at that game. 

 

Poe produces a hammer, an archaic and superfluous hammer, despite Finn’s snark. “Would you care to do the honours?” Purely on impulse, Finn takes it before he answers, or even asks what “the honours” are. It seems like Poe was prepared for such a response, however, as he immediately takes out a single nail and gestures to the front door frame. “Last one in, buddy.”

 

Bated breath. There’s something so ceremonial about the act that Finn doesn’t know if he’ll be able to breathe properly until the nail’s in. The others around him don’t seem to mind. It’s almost as if they feel it too, and the planet’s rotation is slowed for everyone, just for this moment. Willing his arm to lift against the current of a lagging time, Finn positions the single nail just so, and drives it into the wood in three terse strikes. 

 

And if he thought that that would bring everyone back to normal speed, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, he takes weary steps backwards towards a petrified Poe and likewise colleagues. There’s a lot for everyone to take in, and there’s something that feels so right about showing appreciation for a job well-done all together. Somehow finding Poe’s hand with own, Finn basks in the sight of their new home. 

 

It’s primitive, and reminds Finn of the incinerated village back on Jakku—the first piece of a domestic community he’d ever laid eyes on—and now he has some part of that to himself. What’s more, he gets to share it Poe. And BB-8. And anyone who wishes to visit. Poe would probably go ballistic if he and Finn were perceived as anything but loving, altruistic, and accepting.

 

Although, Finn’s sure he doesn’t need to worry about that at all. 

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


Once the basic structure is taken care of, it takes a few days for the rest of the essentials and furnishings to be installed. In no time at all, however, the house is finished and it is gorgeous… for a pile of wood, and in the eyes of someone who’s never had a house. Even so, Poe can’t stop gushing about it either once it’s done.  A simple floor plan, with a living room, kitchen, refresher, a couple of closets on the main floor, and a loft within the roof for the two to sleep in. It’d been years since he’d stepped in something that was both so his and so homey. Pride and contentment emanate from him in beams, but they don’t hold a candle to Finn’s high spirits. 

 

Until the housewarming party, 

 

which was insisted to be held immediately after all of the couple’s belongings were stored. Barely giving them any time to ruminate in their own happiness. It was just some Resistance friends, so it’s not like it was  _ bad  _ or anything. Comments about the house, though? Yeah those were pretty bad. Nothing outright rude, but passive aggressive and a little too scathing. The whole thing just felt crowded, and a little too cliché, so Poe said he needed to get some fresh air while his eyes said “Finn please follow me out of here.” They end up sitting on the roof, which honestly, is more clichéd than the party itself can ever be.

 

“Some housewarming celebration,” Poe scoffs as he takes a sip of something cheap and festive. Finn hums in acknowledgement rather than agreement, and studies his partner. He doesn’t seem as upset as roof-sitting would let on, just relieved to be out of the throng. 

 

“Don’t you feel a little bad for ditching our own party?”

 

“Naw, it’s all good. I mean, they really just want to see the house anyways; they already know what we look like.”

 

“That’s not the  _ point _ ,” Finn sing-songs. He leans in closer to Poe to give him the proverbial floor. Make it so he can just spit it out and stop being a baby. They share a look that’s both a smile and a scold, and Poe gives in because he really can’t take those wide brown eyes a second longer. 

 

“Okay then, I was tired of hearing their criticisms. That answer valid enough for you?” 

 

Finn leans back on his hands with a grin in triumph. “Yep, and very believable. Force knows what would happen to someone, should they bruise your ego.”

 

“I could say the same about you.”

 

There’s a shout from below, and Poe has a feeling it’s Jess before the voice recognition even registers: “Hey! What are you two crazy kids doing up there?”

 

He turns to Finn with a gasp. “We’ve been spotted.” As if doing a mental one-eighty, Poe’s presence is instantly militaristic, like he’s some kind of soldier guarding a wall when he leans forward to shout right back at Jessika. “Isn’t it obvious? Trying to ditch you laserbrains!”

 

Finn peers down from the roof as well to find a Jess, BB-8, and a small gathering of party guests on his new lawn. Word must’ve gone around about where D’Qar’s worst hosts had disappeared to. Maybe insulting them is a little uncalled for, since they all attended out of the good of their hearts (or their stomachs, depending if they had eaten dinner yet), and Finn doesn’t think their guests would take too kindly to Poe’s antics. Sure enough, retaliation is swift, and a hailstorm of pinecones being thrown their way is what calls Finn back to the present. Poe makes unintelligible noises of protest as he tries to shield himself. 

 

“You brought this upon yourself!” Jessika points out, lobbing an extra large pinecone right next to Poe for him to get the idea. He snatches it up before it can roll of the roof and returns the favour. Finn humours the crowd and throws pinecones with calculated accuracy at no one in particular, though the overall mood of their “war” is light, so he doesn’t have to worry about potential injuries. 

 

Someone decides to chuck a rock at roof, and that’s where Poe draws the line.

 

“Hey! We have someone still in recovery up here! You don’t want to put him out of it again, do you?” Saying this while assailing Jess’ head with a hailstorm does paint Poe as a tad hypocritical, though Finn finds it amusing either way. His partner’s cheap excuses to shield himself will only come back to bite him, as is apparent when Finn catches sight of Snap on the ground, hoisting BB-8 up as if to throw it. Poe notices too.

 

“You’d better go save your droid,” Finn says, his words punctuated by the sound of pinecones ricocheting off the roof. 

 

“And leave you here to fend for yourself?”

 

“I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it so far.” And with that, Finn shoves Poe off his ass and onto the not-too-far-below ground, where he’s immediately encircled and assaulted with pinecones. Serves him right for ditching his own party. 

 

Finn gives Poe two minutes before he eases himself down from the roof to rescue his “ace pilot.”

 

☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


“Good morning.”

 

Finn had woken up to the sleeping, sound face of Poe and the white noise of rainfall outside. Everything seemed to have stilled overnight, a cleansing fog taking board in their little cabin and preserving the solemn serenity. Determined to add the right amount of colour, the right amount of life to the image, Finn thought it was high time he’d woken Poe up as well. Even though he’s used to early-morning grogginess from him, that doesn’t stop him from trying to get Poe up at a reasonable hour. Usually, Poe would say he could do without the wake-up-call, but today he actually manages to lift his eyelids enough to drowsily look at the face in front of him.

 

“Mmm,” he smiles. “Good  _ everything _ .” Finn rolls his eyes at Poe’s dramatics, though he can’t help but agree… to an extent. There’s a dripping leak in the corner of the ceiling, and the soaking wood smells kind of funny, but other than that, everything does seem to be good. More than good. Sublime.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. I didn’t think I  _ could  _ ever be this happy, that I could ever end up living this life.” 

 

Who says things like that at an hour like this? Especially Poe, who is the most non-morning person in the galaxy? It really puts a filter on things, puts everything into a perspective that fits the perfect little world they’ve created. That leak is perfectly dripping in one select spot. That smell is perfectly dull enough to ignore. That dust that’s catching on the windowsill is perfectly stacked. That ornament stuck above them on the ceiling is perfectly distanced from the bed… except—

 

Interior decorating has never been top priority for either man, since taking care of basics seemed like the better idea. Finn frowns. Does Poe even know how to spiff up anything not made of metal? And Finn would definitely remember pinning anything up in their bedroom, the rest of the space is practically vacant. So whatever’s in the corner of the ceiling and is about half the size of Finn’s fist is, in all likelihood, not some kind of decor. 

 

“Poe.”

 

“Hmmm.” 

 

He must’ve dozed off a bit from the serene atmosphere. Finn really doesn’t want to be the one to put a damper on it, but… there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to relax with that… thing in their house. All his life, it had been durasteel and chrome cleanliness, and any flaw was out of the question. Sanitation meant garbage and mildew. Not vermin. Not creatures his darkest nightmares couldn’t conjure up. “Look up.”

 

Poe reminds him of a Hutt, the way he slinks up at the farthest thing from lightspeed. He smacks his lips a couple times to give them moisture and to buy him time to fully wake up, though when he tilts his head back and catches sight of insectoid on the ceiling, maybe a preparation wasn’t needed.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Do you think we can get it to fly out of here?”

 

Poe shakes his head, eyes locked on the bug. “If it falls, it’s gonna crawl all over everything, and Force knows how fast.” That has Finn scrambling out of the bed with a poignant “ _ Nope _ ”, landing hard on the floor on account of his ankle getting caught in the sheets. He’s staying low and making his way to the side of the room opposite from the offending creature, while Poe takes the more cautious route and slowly stands up from the bed. That bug is not leaving his sight.

 

Finn’s on the brink of panicking on the floor. Images of the bug getting in their clothes—getting on their skin—flash through his head, and he cannot take another second with it in here. “Get rid of it, please, get rid of it.”

 

It’s just the perfect moment that a certain droid flickers to life, fully charged and rolling over to Poe ready and energized. BB-8 stops short at the foot of the bed when it takes note that Poe is distressed. It stares at him quizzically until Poe regards its presence. “BB, buddy, you think you can help us out?” 

 

One look to where its owner is pointing, and the droid is already rolling itself far away from the situation, with a beep indicating that it doesn’t want to touch the insectoid any more than Finn or Poe. Everything else is silent save for the heavy thuds going down the stairs. Little shit. Poe knew it would start to pick up his worst traits.

 

“Here,” Poe grunts, trying to stand on the mattress like it isn’t a soft surface that can’t hold him up steadily. Once he’s gained that bit of height, albeit shakily, he tries to test how far his hand will go, if it can reach the bug. No such luck. “Blast. If only it were a bit closer.”

 

Fixing his most frustrated, concentrated look on the bug, Finn begs its tiny brain, begs the Force, for it to get close enough to the ground so Poe can… What  _ is  _ his plan? Catch it? Squish it? Keep it as a pet? Finn doesn’t need to mull it over for much longer, however, as the bug starts crawling (thankfully slowly), a little bit across the ceiling, and then down the wall towards the floor. Poe is on it as soon as he can, clasping his hands arounds it and holding it in place, not sure what to do now that he’s gotten this far.

 

“You just might be my hero,” Finn notes. He gets a winded laugh in return, from the man whose eyes are currently boring into the insectoid he’s holding.

 

“And that ‘might’ still stands until we figure out what to—” the bug moves a bit in his hands, he has to follow it with his arms to make sure it doesn’t fall “—do with the little pest.”

 

“Little?” Regardless of technicalities, Finn lifts his hands to get Poe’s attention. “Couldn’t you just…” and he makes squishing motions accompanied by a wincing face. He gets a wincing face in return.

 

“Hmm, this little guy’s not really hurting anyone though…”

 

“Since when did you become a pacifist?”

 

“Since I decided it’s too early to get grossness and bug guts all over my hands and the floor.” His hands jerk again at trying to keep the bug seized. “Let’s just put it outside.”

 

Finn likes that idea, so he darts up and heads down the stairs to open the door for Poe. Accosted by the dogmatic downpour, he steps to the side and looks back towards the stairs to see Poe bounding down, insect still in his hands. He’s holding it as far away from his person as possible, which makes for some pretty comical running as he tries to get out the door. Poe’s already off the porch and reaching inertia before Finn can point out that he has no shoes on.

 

And he doesn’t have to go to the edge of the forest deposit the bug, but he does, just for good measure. And he doesn’t have to stay out long enough that he re-enters the house sopping wet, but he does. To ensure that the menace is as far from their home as possible, and it has Finn swooning.

 

“You maniac.”

 

“‘Thanks’ works, too,” Poe says, panting as he leans against the shut door. The teeth to his words are dull, have no bite to them. He's just teasing, trying to milk Finn’s obvious gratitude for all it’s worth. The worst part is, it works.

 

He never has time to fully catch his breath, as Finn’s hands finding his waist and his mouth peppering kisses all over his face takes it away from him again. Takes his mind away, in fact, to the point where his nerves have calmed down from the whole bug-fiasco and he can just melt into whatever Finn gives him. “Remind me to let bugs in here more often.”

 

A joke, but Finn stops his kisses altogether to take a step back and look Poe straight in the eye when he says: “The next bug I see in here, I’m shooting it with my blaster. No two ways about it.”

 

Maybe Poe needs to get a better hang of his partner’s sensitivities. Maybe they should get some shields to ward off any other vermin. Maybe the way Finn hugs him again is trying to tell Poe that he doesn’t need to recreate today’s events to show his heroism. Maybe—no, not maybe—definitely, 

 

Finn just needs someone to understand him.

 

Poe will be damned if he isn’t trying his best. 

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆

  
  


On days not spent freaking out over intrusive insects, when the weather bodes well and there’s actual work to be done at the base, Finn gets excited for the day ahead. He’ll get to go through a morning routine with Poe, which includes waking him up, fighting over for space in the refresher, and making the breakfast that will require the least amount of effort, together. It’s a little more than chaotic, yet somehow both men are groomed and ready to go well before they need to be at their respective stations. 

 

There’s always a little clamour right before they head out the door, either with trying to remember last minute necessities or make sure BB-8 is fully charged and ready to go, and somewhere along the way Finn has the image of looking at the chrono with five minutes left to go ingrained in his head. He’s usually the one tapping his foot on the porch and waiting for his counterparts, but he can’t complain. It gives him the chance to soak in the stillness of early D’Qar mornings by himself, to meditate a little.

 

But before he gets too lost in himself, Poe’s always right there behind him, shutting the door and reaching for Finn’s hand to hold as they walk toward the base. They both appreciate the cobblestone pathway Finn had lain out, and Poe sometimes makes obscure references to some kind of child’s riddle. Step on a crack... something about your mother’s back? Either way, they’re both prudent in their steps, if not for the riddle, then to dodge the risk of tripping. 

 

Finn doesn’t remember what day it is—it certainly can’t be the weekend, he knows that at least—but frankly, he doesn’t care. All that matters is that it’s sunny, the dew on the grass makes it look like it’s sparkling, and Poe is particularly adorable when he’s still trying the get the last remnants of sleep out of his system. They talk, mindless and languid, about nothing of importance, every word crystallizing in the air in clouds  from the early morning coolness. And if that didn’t make it evident enough, Finn gets interrupted one too many times with Poe’s audible shivers. He glances as his partner, who is sans appropriate outerwear for the temperature.

 

“Poe.”

 

“Yeah,” he’s still looking forward and walking, probably for the best since too much stimulation while he’s still practically asleep could be hazardous. He probably didn’t have time to wipe all the crust from his eyes this morning and is having trouble seeing. Gross.

 

Either way, Finn tugs Poe’s hand just a little to get more of his attention. “Don’t tell me you’re not cold because I can tell you  _ are _ . You should take my jacket for the rest of the walk.”

 

And finally Poe stops walking, closing his eyes to smile at Finn and politely decline at the same time. “It’s okay, buddy, it’s not much far—” Instinctually he opens his eyes as he hears Finn start to shuck off the jacket, hears the telltale crinkles of a certain jacket he’s had a long history with. “You’re wearing my jacket again.”

 

“Um,  _ my  _ jacket now, remember?” Finn laughs, taking the garment off of his shoulders and placing it onto Poe’s. The pilot slips his arms into the sleeves and takes hold of Finn’s hand again, continuing their walk to the base.

 

“I know, I know, it’s just, you never wear it. You’ve only ever worn it for special occasions.” It’s the truth. Though as of late, “special occasions” have been few and far between, and Finn had taken notice. Which is why this morning, he’d done something he’d been itching to do for a while.

 

“Well… I mean, how long are you supposed to own clothes until you get to wear them whenever?”

 

“I’m not sure… I guess it  _ has _ been a while.”

 

“Exactly!” Finn beams, “and maybe now that it’s not new anymore, I could wear it more often, maybe a lot more often. So you’re always keeping me warm… often.”

 

And once again Poe pauses their commute to base, looking at Finn disbelievingly, as if what he just said didn’t make sense (even though it totally  _ did _ ). Finn’s worried for all of ten seconds before Poe starts cracking up laughing, adoration emitting from him in heaps. He finally spares Finn further confusion by lightly jabbing him in the arm with an explanatory: “You big cheese ball.” Finn smiles in relief and owns the title with pride, happy that his sentimentality isn’t unnoticed. 

 

The two arrive at the base later than usual, but like hell if either of them care. 

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆

  
  


_ How lazy can we get? _ Finn wonders. It’s finally a day off for them. Finally an actual chance to be lazy, truly lazy, and not just squeeze in what little minutes of relaxation they can at the end of a long work day. The air outside is humid, and honestly, neither him nor Poe feel like doing anything today at all. Besides lie on the floor side by side and cracking the stupidest jokes, that is. About themselves, about fellow members of the Resistance, and plenty about the First Order. They haven’t eaten all day.

 

“Okay, okay,” Poe manages as he comes down from the high of chuckles that came with the previous joke. “What was Kylo Ren renamed to when he couldn’t get the map to Skywalker?”

 

Oh, Finn knows this one. Not this joke specifically, but the nickname that is sure to be the punchline is nothing new to him. He waits a beat for dramatic effect, then: “ _ Crylo _ Ren.”

 

“How could you have known that one?!”

 

“Guess what our nickname was for him whenever he’d have any tantrum, which was at least once a day.” And that has Poe beaming ear to ear, eyebrows high like he doesn’t believe it to be true. “No way.”

 

“All the way.” Poe snorts and Finn smiles, content with himself for catching the pilot off guard. He lays a hand on the floor beside him, scorched from the rays of sunlight pouring in through the window.  _ This place could be a sauna _ , he muses. There does seem to be some sort of rejuvenation and cleansing happening in this moment; struggles are forgotten, their immediate world is confined to the four walls of their house, so everything for them is at peace. Finn can get used to this. Can get used to the things he’d never known he craved until a certain cocky pilot took him under his wing. Hey, maybe he can use that for his next joke, should they start that up again.

 

A growling stomach causes a blip in the trance that apparently the entire house was under (Poe looks like he’s just been shaken awake as well), though Finn doesn’t mind so much. He knows that whatever spell that makes their little house turn into a haven, the only place either of them want to be, will come back soon. It always does.

 

While it will remain a mystery just whose stomach had growled, the look they share says that the need to get up and cook a meal is mutual. Whether they want to even get up however… the reluctance is mutual, too. So they take it slow, at the same time. Swimming through invisible gelatin to merely get their bodies to the kitchen, their feet practically attached to the floor boards. 

 

It’s not quite midday, but it’s too late for this to feel like breakfast. Poe calls it a brunch and Finn calls that stupid. BB-8 sides with Finn on this one, startling both men as it makes itself known in the room. 

 

“Good morning, starshine,” Poe drawls facetiously as he and Finn prepare their meal together. His partner corrects him in that it’s technically the afternoon, and Poe bats at his hands to get him to focus on “brunch” again. Intrigued BB-8 whirrs over to the two of them to see what’s cooking, and it’s times like these where Poe sometimes wishes he had a real pet, so at least he wouldn’t feel so guilty about not sharing his food.

 

Although Finn wouldn’t say he’s fluent, or even passable in binary, there are certain “phrases” he’s been catching onto, as well as being able to tell what the droid is saying from Poe’s responses. As he stirs a mixture of a large egg and various vegetables in a sizzling skillet, he tries to decipher Poe’s conversation with BB-8 while Poe readies the bread for them. It takes a bit to piece together but so far this seems like Finn’s best conclusion to come to:

 

BB-8 is worried about a “dry spell in the action”, the “action” being any missions or attacks on the First Order, and Poe’s trying to rationalize that while progress is being made, doing anything rash at the moment would probably set back all the hard work that had been made. Besides, it wasn’t like the First Order was doing anything major on the offence either. Though it does impose a greater doom to come, the best thing the Resistance can do at the moment is focus on their own tactics. 

 

At this, BB-8 seems to be placated at least a little bit, and Poe’s relieved to get back to making brunch, when Finn catches ear of a few well-placed beeps that he’s not very familiar with. He turns to Poe pointedly for translation.

 

“BB-8’s just jealous and moody and being a butt.” 

 

“Why, what’d it say?” 

 

Poe grins and, having finished preparing the bread, makes his way over to Finn to wrap an arm around his waist. The two look at BB-8 like two old parents as Poe fills Finn in on the cause of said moodiness. “I don’t think our little buddy here likes us spending so much free time together. Just the two of us, with no droids in the picture,” he says in his hautiest voice, giving Finn a big, wet kiss on the cheek to punctuate his taunts. BB-8 looks on in stoic disapproval, and that might have something to do with the stove that’s being left on, but there’s no doubt that Poe’s teasing had been getting to it.

 

There’s that blow torch again. Finn is positive it’s meant to be a middle finger now.

  
  
  


☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


Cuddling, Finn decides, is something he’ll never tire of. There’s just something so purely  _ corporeal _ about the act—nothing mechanical, nothing rigid—just the synchronization of breaths and pulses, and the stationary locking in place that can only happen to souls in harmony with each other. It’s all so corny for something so trivial and elementary, but Finn excuses himself for being sentimental (as he and everyone around him always do) because it’s all still so new. Which is funny, since when he’s cuddling with Poe he feels more at home than he can ever remember, like he’s been doing it all his life. He wishes.

 

At least that’s where they are now. In  _ their _ home, in  _ their _ bed, in _ their _ sanctuary from the hostilities and dangers of the galaxy around them. Having both gotten back from a mission, Finn and Poe were too enervated to do anything but amble their way up to the loft, strip off their outer garments, and crash down in their creaky bed. Nevermind bathing. It’s hard to pay much mind to your partner’s odor and flightsuit-induced grossness when you’re in no better shape (or stench) yourself. 

 

So the two have no qualms about snuggling up close to each other once in bed, simply for the sake of being  _ able  _ to. They had gotten out alive, which is saying something. The mission had been one of stealth and patience, neither of which were either man’s strong suit. In fact, if Rey were here with her training complete, it probably would’ve been right up her alley. Instead, it was right up close and personal with First Order scouts, lurking around the Resistance’s base. While the rest of the fleet had to feign ignorance, it was up to a select few to find out just exactly what these scouts knew, what information they were feeding back to First Order headquarters, and how to possibly help them feed the wrong information.

 

To say it was a success would be a half truth. Not only because they only made it out by the skin of their teeth (it was stupid of them to underestimate the scouts, to predict them to be anything but well-equipped), but their victory only resulted in buying them more time. First Order infantry was sure to be back, and even more agitated than before, so a celebration of any kind would be a bit over the top. Lucky for Finn and Poe, being over the top is their only way of being. It’s what lets them laugh when they fall into the sheets, and feel fulfilled from simple touches of legs and forearms. It’s what lets Poe hold the love of his life as he hums nonsensical melodies that have no discernable tempo or genre, creating their cerebral escape as they are too tired to move.

 

Finn’s in utter bliss, dozing off from being lulled by Poe’s humming rather than from boredom. Something’s amiss however, an odd energy filling the space, and it doesn’t necessarily feel  _ bad _ , just… anxious. Opening his eyes enough to study Poe, Finn furrows his brow when he sees that his partner’s face is already in a similar state, albeit unfocused and spacing out.

 

“What’s wrong?” The soft words, free of any pet names, pull Poe from his troubled revery and have him looking at Finn with a surprised sort of guilt. He immediately tries to hide it with words. Unconvincingly. 

 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine. I love being in your company.” He takes Finn’s hand in his own and kisses the backside of it as if Finn was pressing for proof. This only worries him further.

 

“Poe…”

 

He sits up a hair too quickly for it to seem casual. “Everything’s fine, honest. I’m not mad at you, nothing happened, I’ve just been… mulling over some stuff.” Finn blinks up at him in attentive patience. “What kind of stuff?” 

 

Deep breathing is the only response Finn gets for a whole minute, then Poe hangs his head with a sigh and a piteous laugh.

 

“Stupid stuff. Stuff that doesn’t matter.”

 

“ _ You  _ matter to me though, so whatever you’re thinking of matters.”

 

“I guess you’re right.”

 

“No, I’m pretty sure I  _ am _ right.”

 

A genuine smile this time. “Fine. Well, you know how I always get after a mission. Start realizing just how breakable we are, and how much we’re risking for the Resistance.” Finn is all too aware, having spent many a night consoling Poe about it to the point that it had stopped becoming an issue. Stopped gnawing away at both of their minds. Maybe Poe is experiencing a relapse of some sort? He continues talking. “...This is sort of like that, but different circumstances.”

 

“How so?” Finn had finally diluted any drowsiness from before and is all ears now. Poe, on the other hand, looks like he wants to melt into the mattress.

 

“I’m not just worried about myself anymore.”

 

The vulnerability in his voice transmits volumes through an otherwise quiet statement. The stare Finn gives him urges him to explain further. Taking a full, stuffy breath through his nose, Poe presses on.

 

“Like, I’ve always cared about what would happen to other people, and I’ve always been worried. But… if something, if something happened to  _ you, _ Finn...” He stares at the man lying down with wide, glossy eyes, “...I’d break if that was the end.”

 

Finn shifts so he’s holding his head up with his hand, looking up at Poe, himself nearly breaking from just the sight of it. 

 

“The end of me? Of us?”

 

“Yes, exactly. I wouldn’t… I couldn’t go on if there weren’t some tangible thing that would keep us... connected.” It could be the late hour, but Finn’s having a hard time piecing together exactly what Poe is trying to say. He gives it his best shot.

 

“Not entirely sure what you’re asking for, but I get it. So, do you like… want some of my clothes?”

 

“No, no no no,” Poe laughs a little when he registers what Finn’s said. “You can keep your clothes. I guess what I want isn’t exactly a  _ thing _ . Not a material thing at least. Something bigger, that you can’t feel physically, but only with your heart — ”

 

“Poe, please. Just cut to the chase. I’d rather you tell me what you really want than for you to hide it for my sake.”

 

“Finn… I really, really am trying to be as succinct as possible, but it’s really hard…” The whole room is shaking, it feels like everything is fuzzy and won’t stop moving until Poe gets out what he wants to say. “...Finn, I want to be your husband.” 

 

And the last word nearly dies on Poe’s tongue because it’s all said in one breath. He hates that he’s just sprung it on Finn like that, not even asking a question. It was just stating a fact. A fact that had been true for a while now; hardly the riveting “proposal” Poe had wanted to go for. 

 

His eyes graze over Finn’s, trying to detect signs of anything besides sheer panic. Though slow to appear, Finn’s creased eyebrows suffices for now. “You… Like, you want us to get,” Finn gestures oddly with his hands, as if trying to find the word that he already knows is the answer, “married?” 

 

Wow. How could Poe have been so selfish? To spring this on Finn at this hour, instead of a time when he could’ve really had a chance to think about it.  _ It’s because you wanted to ensure he said yes, idiot, _ and this makes Poe’s insides churn. No prospect, not even one as big as marrying Finn, is worth being a manipulative jerk over. The thought of him, of anyone, using Finn and molding his mind like this is tear inducing. In a reverent moment where the everything in the room has stilled but Poe, he sniffs up his stuffy nose and moves to cradle Finn’s head against his chest. The crying he’s trying to contain makes it shake as he breathes raggedly, but he doesn’t hear Finn say anything about it, so he doesn’t either. Of course Finn’s not saying anything, though. All of this is probably scaring him.

 

Poe slowly shakes his head repeatedly, holding Finn like he might slip from his impuissant arms, tears just beginning track his face. Voice warbling from crying, Poe is as clear as he can be when he murmurs, “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I didn’t even ask you a question, we can forget about this, we  _ will _ forget about this in the morning — ”

 

But no, that’s not right, Finn thinks. Poe  _ had _ made a statement, but was practically begging for a definite response of some kind. And it certainly would not be okay for him to stay silent through all of this: Finn has just enough a conscious as Poe, can think for himself, and right now he can say with utmost certainty that Poe needs an answer and needs one now. Who is Finn to give him anything but the truth? His hand clutches Poe’s shirt, and he blinks a couple of times to refocus.

 

“Poe... I want to marry you too.” 

 

The pilot stiffens, breath caught between his heart and his lungs. “But,” Finn continues, “I want to when the time’s right. After the First Order is long gone and we have a real sense of security, after Rey gets back so I don’t have to repeat every detail over a comm and so we can actually hug and cry about it, and after we do something about all the leaks in this place!” He looks up at the man holding him when saying that last point, and sees Poe’s tear-streaked dimples, radiating a smile worth infinite credits and aiming it right at Finn.

 

“And then you really wanna go for it? With a whole wedding and everything?” Finn sits up so they’re eye-level, and lays his hand on top of Poe’s, giving it an enthusiastic squeeze. 

 

“A big wedding—the _ biggest _ wedding. The whole planet’ll make a day of it.” And Poe laughs in disbelief, trying to picture just for himself what that could be like—

 

then he remembers where they are, and that they’re technically hiding, and for a whole planet to celebrate the marriage of two buffoons seems like a bit much, but the scenario seems like something out of his own imagination. His eyes hone in on Finn again with playful ferocity. “You’re mocking me.”

 

Finn shrugs a shoulder. “Doesn’t make it any less exciting.”

 

“Or terrifying,” Poe grins.

 

“You know, we  _ normal people _ usually find that as a bit of a pitfall in regards to a wedding.” 

 

“There is nothing normal about you. That’s why you’re perfect.”

 

“This stops now!” Finn burrows into the sheets and throws one of their pillows over his head to cease the barrage of sappiness. Poe takes that as his cue to lie down too, gingerly taking the pillow off of Finn’s head to tuck it under his own. So they look at each other again, just as they were before any word of marriage was brought up. So their partner’s face is the last thing they see before falling asleep. The gesture is more than welcomed by Finn, though there’s still one more thing on his mind. He locks a lazy gaze with Poe. “But, back to what you were saying earlier; if something were to happen to either of us, wouldn’t being married make it hurt even more?”

 

His words feel physical, like they’re taking up actual space in the little loft and crowding over the two, interrogative. By shutting his eyes and giving Finn one of his purest, most effortless smiles, however, Poe makes any sense of fear or anxiety dissipate. Instead, it’s replaced by his comforting words, the last he says preceding sleep, hushed and sure and laced with a yawn:

 

“Yes. But being married will make the reunion—wherever and however it may be—ineffable.”

 

It takes those words, the sight of Poe’s closed eyes, and a newfound feeling of reassurance for Finn to follow suit and join his partner in much-needed slumber. 

  
  


☆ ☆ ☆ 

  
  


“Cleaning like this literally won’t make a difference. I don’t even think she knows what a clean house is supposed to look like.” Reclining on the sofa, one hand behind his head and the other petting BB-8’s, Poe cranes his neck enough to see Finn frantically dust away at every surface in their house with wet and dry rags. 

 

“All the more reason to make her welcome special,” Finn says, swiping at a particularly musty cabinet in the kitchen. No luck, it’s still dirty. He tries again, and again, until he gives up and (literally) throws in the towel (in a small hamper full of rags just like it). So maybe Poe’s right, maybe he’s going a little overboard, but this is  _ Rey _ they’re talking about. The last time she’s seen Finn, he was unconscious, and according to Poe, she left for Ahch-To before she and the pilot got a chance to meet. A warm welcome to a nice house is the least Finn can do for her return, and while Poe’s done his share of tidying up, Finn wants to showcase a certain… pizzazz that wood cabins seem to lack.

 

While a fun prospect to entertain, Finn knows that Rey coming back doesn't mean that she’ll be living with him and Poe. There simply isn’t enough room. For her first night back, though, the plan was to have her spend the night; the bed could easily accommodate the three of them at a time, and Finn didn’t doubt that Rey had more than enough stories to share in the deepest hours of the night. 

 

Finn thinks,  _ Are there enough pillows? Would Rey want more pillows? _ and decides not to take any chances, going straight to a closet full of home necessities. Pillows are spotted, and they’re on the top shelf, and Finn tries just once to go on his tip-toes and swat at them with an arm. Fruitless, utterly fruitless. 

 

“You’re gonna strain yourself trying to reach those pillows,” Poe taunts from the couch, awful at hiding the fact that he actually finds Finn’s finickiness adorable.  

 

“You mean  _ you’re _ definitely-not-going-to-strain-yourself-because-you-are-at-peak-health trying to reach those pillows.”

 

“Point taken,” Poe says. He hefts himself off the couch, lightly kicking BB-8 to get out of the way as he saunters up behind Finn. “You know how much I appreciate your cleaning, right?” His arms are a vice-grip around Finn’s neck, who can barely turn his head to look at Poe and give him skeptical eyebrow. Brushed aside instantly, like it didn’t even happen. “Because I do~ Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I’d be living in a house of garbage.”

 

“I don’t doubt you—I’ve been to your quarters at a time when I didn’t clean it.”

 

“Stars, you’re right!” Poe laughs at his own forgetfulness and kisses the side of Finn’s face as if to make up for it. He does it again and again until they're both laughing and Finn wants to turn around and kiss him on his stupid, gracious, too-sweet-for-their-own-good lips. He does just that, cleaning be damned.

 

Who cares if their home is a mess? Who cares if they’re a pillow short? Here, in their untouchable little sphere of mutual gratitude and grabby hands, Finn finds peace. This is what he wants to show to Rey, really. That happiness isn’t a pipe dream and it can come to everybody who wants it. And Finn wants to help Rey find it too, like Poe helped him find his. 

 

“It smells like wood in here!”

 

The interruption is nearby and loud, and all the two men need to do is turn and face the door to see Rey standing in the frame, smiling as she marvels at the inside of Finn and Poe’s house. She’s breathing heavily, as if she bounded all the way here from the base without stopping, so she takes the time to catch her breath and really take in the atmosphere. Sharing a quick smile with Poe, Finn turns to his friend again and laughs at her wonderment.  “That’s because it _ is  _ wood, sand-slugger.”

 

Wrong move… sort of, because the second Finn addresses her, Rey locks her gaze on him and sprints straight into his arms, knocking the wind out of him in a tight hug that’s immediately reciprocated. She’s gotten noticeably stronger, and Finn muses that this is probably the first time in ages that she’s gotten to show such a burst of emotions. He revels in it. “It’s good to have you back.”

 

Rey lets out a bittersweet chuckle. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you up and well like this.” While Rey has seen him up and well like this, multiple times throughout these past months, Finn understands why this is different. Why this gives Rey the confirmation she needs. Only after a few more moments do Finn’s manners kick in as he breaks the hug to gesture to Poe.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all proper and stuff for forever, Poe! This shining Jedi knight is Rey, and Rey! This is Poe Dameron, best pilot in the galaxy and worst person to wake in the mornings.”

 

Poe snorts. “So cheesy.” 

 

Finn can’t really argue with that, and really, it’s not news to anyone in the room.

 

The afternoon proceeds with reuniting Rey with a certain orange droid, a tour of the house, and comfortable chatter in the living room over some tea and novelty sweets. Finn had really wanted to make sure everything was more than special, and Rey can only reply with that she is more than thankful for it. After a couple of hours and three kettles of tea, Poe receives a comm from the general requesting he come to the base immediately. She doesn’t shy away from the fact that Finn is very much needed too, but she knows that he’s spending the day with Rey, so she tones down the mother’s guilt just a tad. 

 

While it doesn’t seem like Poe is any but eager to stay and hang with Finn and Rey, he also is always eager to be on a new assignment or mission, which is why Finn isn’t the least bit offended when his partner hurriedly gets ready to head to the base with a chipper “Duty calls!” 

 

Poe’s out the door in a blur of hugging Rey and kissing Finn on the cheek, until it’s the two friends alone in the house, hearing the harsh  _ thunks _ of BB-8 making its way down the porch to just barely catch up with Poe. There’s no awkward silence, though. Instead, Rey just gives Finn a look that he spends a good minute trying to read before giving up. 

 

“What?”

 

“You like him a lot.”

 

“I should hope so,” Finn snorts. 

 

“And why’s that?” An odd question, and Rey pointing out that Finn likes Poe was already strange enough. One would have to be blind not to see, hell, even feel the two-sided affection that came with those two. But without thinking, Finn answers with the thing that makes the most sense to him at the moment. 

 

“We’re thinking of getting married.”

 

“You’re thinking of it, or you’re going to do it?”

 

“Aw c’mon, don’t say things like that!”

 

Rey bristles, and Finn can tell she’s holding back her playful offense. Probably has to do with her Jedi training. “I’m being serious, it’s been one of the most important principles I’ve been learning. Commit to it. You have to do it or you don’t. So are you?” Leave it to Rey to expect Finn to give her an answer to such a loaded question with no prep time. 

 

“It’s a big step…” he trails off, trying to avoid actually answering.

 

“You’ve talked about it though, right? And you’ve come to a unanimous decision?”

 

“Well… yeah, we talked about it of course. And, first he said he wanted to, and then I said I wanted to.” 

 

What Finn gets in return is blatant mockery, in the form of Rey solemnly nodding her head and acting as if it’s a lot of cutting-edge information to take in. She’s treating him like a child. “So what you’re saying right _ now _ is…”

 

“What I’m saying right now is… that me and Poe are getting married!” She treated him like a child, and blast it actually worked. But Finn doesn’t have the energy to call Rey out on it and instead opts for picking her up and spinning her around in their shared glee. Rey shrieks at being able to let all her carefully constructed inhibitions down, wrapping her arms around Finn’s neck and already coming up with excuses to tell Master Skywalker.

 

“A wedding, that’s so exciting!” She has more to say, Finn already knows, so he lets her down. “I know it’s scary,” Rey continues, “but you’ve faced bigger and greater danger than anyone I know.”

 

“Says the apprentice of Luke Skywalker.”

 

Rey scoffs. “He’s really just a big softy, just like a certain soon-to-be-husband I know.”

 

“Nothing’s been planned yet though, so don’t get your hopes up for an invitation anytime soon.”

 

“You forget that I’ve spent most of my life waiting for something that was never going to happen. This is happening, this I can wait for.” And though her smile might indicate otherwise, Finn feels the shift in mood waiting to burst through at Rey bringing up her most vulnerable self. The self she shouldn’t be thinking about if she wants to be happy, seeming to have slipped out on accident anyway. Finn wants Rey to be happy here, and knows she doesn’t need any extra thoughts that would otherwise ruin her pseudo-vacation. He redirects the conversation with what, in his opinion, is a fool-proof distraction: food.

 

“I bet you can’t wait to help me test recipes for the wedding cake, though.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely caught her full attention now, though maybe not in the way he had hoped.

 

“Whoa Finn, it is  _ way _ too early to be thinking about the _ cake  _ of all things. What about the people? Do you even know who you’re going to invite?”

 

Already Rey’s mind is reeling at the prospect of a huge celebration, and if the things she happens to worry about aren’t the things on Finn’s mind at the moment, well that’s just one less thing to think about. Finn hadn’t considered that the actual planning of the wedding would prove to be fun in it of itself, but Rey’s interest in helping sure puts a brighter spin on things. Grinning, Finn accepts her wanting to help… while trying to get a rise out of her just for kicks.

 

“You’re right, the invite list is important. We gotta make sure we invite only the right type of people.”

 

Rey frowns with an overt dislike of being teased. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

 

“Either way,” Finn shrugs, “there’s no one telling us we have to plan this all out in any specific order. We can just try out some recipes today while we think of people who’d want to come.”

 

It’s a good idea, a good way for them to have something to do and ease Rey back into the Resistance’s social scene while sating her understandable appetite, so she smiles exitedly at the prospect. “Can’t wait to try out fancy wedding dishes, and you have to tell me about everyone on base so I can make somewhat calculated decisions. I haven’t been here very long to meet everyone.”

 

“Of course, of course. And you know what, I guess I can even think of someone who’d be more than happy to go as your date.”

 

Rey scrunches her eyebrows, giving Finn a head start towards the kitchen as she tries to think of what he could possibly be talking about. “As my date…? Who? ...Finn?  _ Finn _ !” 

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

The days are starting to blur together, but in the best of ways. No matter what hardships or frustrations he has during the day, Finn is reassured by the certainty that he will be able to go back home, into the Poe's arms, and be able to start the next day with renowned vigor in his spirits and heart. The best part is, he doesn't have to worry if Poe feels the same way. He knows he does. 

 

And then the bomb drops. Literally.

 

An entire battle station as their weapon? No, the First Order had learned their lesson, learned not to be so noticeable in their attacks. A ground attack? Easily countered by the Resistance, all of their infantry and weapons right at their disposal. So the First Order used an aerial attack, and they didn’t do a magnificent job. A few shots from choice Resistance pilots had them leaving the scene with their tails in between their legs. It was to be expected. What wasn’t expected was for it to be a decoy. 

 

But Poe had looked at just the right time. Felt rather than saw the way the First Order fighter hovered above his and Finn’s cabin, where Finn had stayed behind for protection. So much for that. Poe wasn’t quite sure what was about to happen, or how he was going to save Finn, but before he could work it out in his head his impulse had him gliding his X-wing down next to the cabin for a near-crash landing. It was a blur then. Him booking it to the front door when he already say the projectile falling towards the roof, it was too late for him to stop. He needed to save Finn, he needed to save Finn, but before he could kill himself trying, a weight so blunt and familiar knocked him to the ground, shielding him from the rain of debris to come only seconds later.

 

So here Poe lies, beneath Finn, whose eyes are glossed over and reflecting the spectacle around them. Amidst it all, Finn catches a glimpse of the First Order ships making their swift way far from the base, but not before dropping more bombs on a select few areas. They’ve missed hurting any actual people, though, Finn can tell. The smoke and shattered pieces of house and trees in the sky, however, will instill unease in most Resistance members for sure.

 

Fireworks in the sky, like a beautiful tragedy. Something poetic that would otherwise make Finn gag a bit but now it’s the only thing keeping this entire situation from feeling like shit. 

 

Finn shuts his eyes to collect himself and his snatched breath for three, two, one, until he opens them to look down at the man he’s still shielding, though the ruckus in the air has long since ceased. Poe’s eyes are shut, and the rapid movement Finn catches beneath his lids show that Poe’s searching for something in his head. Maybe a way to ground himself, maybe a way to believe this is all real and not a nightmare, as much as it hurts to realize. So Finn waits the few seconds that stretch on for millenia until Poe takes what he’s looking for to be the reigns and finds the strength in himself to open his eyes.

 

He looks like he’s about to cry, but the sheen in his eyes doesn’t read fear. It reads:  _ my hero _ . “Why is it that you’re always saving my life?” 

 

Unbelieveable. Finn can’t believe him, can’t believe that of all things to think about right now Poe’s focusing on the sentimental. He also can’t believe that they managed to get through this without having any beautiful part of Poe’s eccentric soul scathed. “You want the real answer or the romantic one?”

 

“What’s the real one?”   
  


“You’re careless and brash and you’re always putting yourself in dangerous situations.”

 

Poe smiles blissfully. “Mmm, now that’s the music-to-my-ears kind of romantic.” He sees the hurt in Finn’s eyes as he chuckles regardless. They’re both being crushed, though they feel light as feathers as so much has been taken from them. So much time and so many memories. It’s like they’re weightless now. Empty, for the time being.

 

“It seemed too good to be true anyway,” Finn says. It isn’t just the house, Poe can tell. It was their life together, their slice of normalcy and home. Real home.

 

“Hey,” Poe brings Finn back to the present. “It was true. It did happen. And it was good.”

 

More than good. More than anything Finn knew to be possible, honestly. Even a few years ago, who was he to know that one day he could find sanctuary and love, all wrapped in a nice ribbon and sheltered by infinite trees? Who was he to know that all of it would be taken away in an instant by the very organization he worked for and was owned by? The same Finn who now knows what freedom tastes like, with warm mornings and lazy afternoons, with a love for justice and fighting for it. So much to take in, but with Poe’s help, never  _ too  _ much. He sighs tersely. “It was fantastic.”

 

“We could always build another one. This time you can help out.”

 

And normally Finn would joke along with him, but the wound is still fresh, and the more Finn frets over it, the more it stings. “Maybe the time just wasn’t right. Maybe we jumped the gun.”

 

“No. Never. Finn, I cannot be more grateful for what this past year has given me than for any other time in my life. They can take away our home, but they can’t take away what we’ve built there, what we’ve made. No matter what happens, we’ll always have each other and every breathing second we’ve spent in that house. I know it’s hard to lose something that was still so new, but trust me, if you liked  _ that _ , then you can’t even imagine the kind of amazing things we can still do together. Like defeat the First Order, get married, and yes, have another house. We’re gonna be okay, because I know I’m gonna be, and I’ll be damned if you aren’t.”

 

Poe is notorious for his speeches and pep talks, Finn knows that. And he knows that they’re always sincere, every time. Honestly, his partner couldn’t have had better timing with when to give one. There’s still so much they can do together, so much time they can spend together, and Finn’s decided that the only way it can ever happen to take their first steps together, again. Determined to fight for that future, he heaves himself off the ground and extends a hand for Poe to take, saying more in that gesture than one of Poe’s speeches could ever begin to cover.

 

He’s going to miss it all, definitely. But more so than that, he’s excited to relive those sensations and experiences all anew again, with Poe, with Rey, with a fulfilled sense of self that comes with growing older: the morning sun and morning breath, the evening cuddles and smell of a fire burning, the cobblestone and dusty feet.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m open to all constructive criticisms and can edit accordingly.
> 
> this was written to sate my need for more stormpilot domestic fluff, and bc i was thinking abt that pbs show ‘frontier house’... also that one song in the piglet movie where they’re building eeyore’s house.
> 
> if finn seemed force-sensitive in this fic, then goooood!! (didn’t want to make it too overt, just some hints here and there. finn’s not even supposed to be aware of it, lol). this is my first sw fic (written, not posted), and the username is an utter coincidence (tho i’m not complaining abt its connotation now, haha). had it long before i saw tfa, bc ‘phasma’ means ‘ghost’ in latin, lmao.
> 
> i’m ‘florebits’ on tumblr, so feel free to shoot me a fic request if you liked this. thanks for reading!!


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